


Just a Stranger

by Miss__Jules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Castiel in the Bunker, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Fallen Castiel, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, tiny bit of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss__Jules/pseuds/Miss__Jules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a few feeks since the Winchesters abandoned the last trial and the angels fell from heaven. Dean and Sam have returned to the bunker, on a hiatus from hunting until Sam recovers. Sam is still in pretty bad shape, but he seems to be slowly improving. On a supply run, Dean passes a figure walking along the side of the road. A figure in a familiar, albeit filthy, trenchcoat. He's relieved to have found Castiel, but that relief is short-lived. Cas can't remember anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

"Dean?"

The elder Winchester looks up as his younger brother comes padding softly into the room. Sam is wearing a baggy shirt and sweatpants, and has a quilt wrapped around his broad shoulders. He is pale, and a sheen of sweat covers his forehead, making his long hair stick to his skin in damp strands.

"Sammy, what are you doing up?" Dean asks, mildly annoyed that his brother is up and about when he should be resting.

"I wanted a glass of water," Sam replies hoarsely.

"I would have gotten it for you. You're supposed to be in bed, dude," Dean tells him.

"Dean, I'm feeling better," he says unconvincingly.

"Feeling better, my ass. Bed. Now," Dean says, rising from the chair he's been sitting in and moving to guide Sam back to his room.

He gets Sam settled back in bed and recieves one of Sam's signature bitch-faces in return. Then he goes and gets a glass of water from the kitchen.

"Here," he says, reentering Sam's bedroom, "I got your water."

"Dean, I really could have gotten it myself," Sam says.

Dean just shakes his head. Sam nearly killed himself trying to do that last trial, and he's only just starting to recover. It's been several weeks - Dean can't remember exactly how many - and Sam is improving at a snail's pace. He's tired of having to sit around all the time while his brother takes care of him. And Dean understands that. The times that he's been badly injured on hunts, he's gone crazy from lack of activity. Just sitting around in bed bores Dean out of his skull, and he knows that Sam is feeling the same way.

"Look, Sam. I know you're going stir-crazy here. But you're not okay. So you're gonna stay in bed, whether you like it or not," Dean says.

"And if I refuse?" Sam asks petulantly.

"Don't think that I'm above handcuffing you to that bed, Sammy, 'cause I'm not," Dean replies threateningly, before turning to leave the room.

"Kinky bastard," Sam mutters under his breath, and Dean has to smile, because at least his brother has still got a sense of humor.

After leaving Sam's room, Dean makes his way to the kitchen. It's midday now, and his stomach has started to growl. Looking in the refrigerator and then in the cupboards, he realizes that his stomach may have to wait a while longer. They're just about out of food. Dean finds a bottle of mustard, a jar of olives, and a tupperware container filled with something that he thinks may have been chicken. It's suspiciously fuzzy now. Disappointed, Dean yells to let Sam know that he's going out for some groceries. He sighs and grabs the keys to the impala, anxious to get his errands done as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Dean remembers too late that it's never wise to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach. He buys more than he means to, but figures that most of it will get eaten by Sam, whose appetite has returned with a vengeance. Surprisingly, he's enjoying himself. It's nice to get out of the bunker, and he lingers in every aisle, savoring this contact with the outside world. His thoughts start to wander, but they come screeching to a halt when he reaches the baked goods.

Dean is making a beeline for the pies when he sees it, an innocent looking white cake sitting on the counter. The plastic container has a blue ribbon on top, and Dean freezes instantly.

_Angel food cake_.

_Blue_.

_Cas._

He's been doing his best not to think about the angel. The first week after he and Sammy get back to the bunker, he waits and waits for his cell phone to ring, to hear a knock at the door, something - anything - to let him know Castiel is okay. It never comes. So he gives up, pushing all thoughts of his friend away.

Until now. Everything comes crashing down around him as he stares at the cake. His mind is reeling, and there's a strange pain in his chest. He can't stop thinking about Cas. Is he safe? Is he lost? Is he even _alive_?

Completely forgetting about pie, Dean grabs the angel food cake and puts it in the cart with the rest of his groceries. It's silly, but a part of him is hoping that maybe it's some kind of sign, maybe somehow it's Cas' way of telling Dean not to worry. But the rest of him knows that it's not, knows that he's just grasping at straws.

He's made his way to the checkout, still haunted by thoughts of Cas. He doesn't even bother to flirt with the cute checkout girl, doesn't even really register that she's there. He pays with a credit card - not his own, of course - and gets his purchases loaded into the impala. 

Dean doesn't drive back to the bunker straight away. He takes the scenic route, enjoying being out of the bunker and behind the wheel once more. He can feel tension leaving his body, tension he didn't even know he was holding. He reaches for the car's stereo and turns the volume way up. He hasn't played any of his music inside the bunker for fear of disturbing Sam. Dean feels good like this. It's familiar. Comfortable. The only thing missing is Sam. 

Dean's eyes dart to the empty passenger seat, a reminder that he needs to get back to his brother soon. Dean turns his eyes back to the road just in time to see that he's about to pass a figure walking along the shoulder. A figure in a tan trenchcoat. Dean passes by, positive his eyes are playing tricks on him. But when he looks in his rearview mirror, he can still see the figure - a man, he notices- trudging along. Dean's eyes lock on the man's unruly dark hair, and he can practically smell the burning rubber as he slams on the brake without thinking. He turns the car around, and drives the short distance back to the man. Finally Dean stops the car, and gets out, not believing what is before him.

Dark hair. Full lips. A filthy trenchcoat. And unmistakable blue eyes.

Cas has stopped walking now, and is staring warily at the man who steps out of the car. He looks nervous, but also confused. That's the first thing that lets Dean knows something is wrong. 

The second is that when he calls out Cas' name, he is met with a blank stare.

"Cas," he tries again, "Castiel!"

"Who?" The blue eyed man says, and Dean can almost hear his heart break.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First, I just want to say thank you. I've been reading fanfics for a while now, but I only recently decided to try writing some of my own. Everyone has been so kind, and I am thrilled to be in such a wonderful community.
> 
> Second, this story will we updated as often as possible. That being said, the next week will probably not bring any new chapters, as I am going on vacation and will not have internet access. The good news is that I'm only going to be gone for a week, and I will continue writing during that time. You can expect to have the third chapter by August 3rd or 4th.

All Dean can do is stare at the man before him. The blue eyed man looks at him warily, and Dean can see no hint of recognition in his eyes.

"Who?" he repeats, eyebrows still knitted together in confusion. Dean hasn't yet regained the ability to speak, and he realizes that his silence is anything but reassuring.

"Castiel," Dean says, and the man cocks his head slightly to the side.

"Sir, are you under the impression that we are acquainted with each other?" he asks Dean, and his tone of voice is such that Dean knows he's serious.

"Yeah, we are," Dean replies, eyes narrowing. Now the man before him is smiling, his head still tilted.

"Excellent," he says simply, and without further explanation, he walks over, opens the impala's door and settles himself in the passenger seat. Dean follows, completely flabbergasted. He climbs in the car, and just sits in the driver's seat, staring open-mouthed at the man next to him.

"So, um, you are...?" the man asks Dean, half smiling.

"Dean. Dean Winchester," he replies gruffly. He can't fathom why this man - who Dean is _certain_ is Castiel - got in the car if he doesn't recognize Dean at all. It just doesn't make sense.

"Dean," the man says, trying out the name.

"Yeah," Dean replies, getting more confused by the second.

"And you know who I am?" the man asks, tilting his head again. Dean nods, and the man smiles at him sadly. "This is going to sound very strange," the man says, taking a deep breath. "Could you tell me, please?"

He sees the confused look on Dean's face and clarifies.

"Could you tell me who I am?"

There's a pain in Dean's chest that he doesn't recognize. He feels a lump in his throat, and runs his hand through his short hair. He clears his throat before he speaks again.

"You, uh...really don't know?" he asks, and the man - Cas, Dean thinks - shakes his head. He is about to open his mouth to speak, when he is interrupted by Dean's stomach. It growls, protesting loudly. Dean realizes that he hasn't eaten since breakfast, and he's positively ravenous.

"How about I tell you everything over a burger?" he offers, and Cas smiles.

Dean pulls the car into the lot of a diner. It's his favorite local haunt, and he knows the area well enough by now that it doesn't take long to get there. He and Cas walk in through the glass door, a small bell tinkling to signal their arrival. A brunette woman who looks to be around fifty seats them at a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. Her nametag reads 'Cheryl', and she seems nice enough as she takes their orders. But really, Dean can't wait for her to leave so he can talk to Cas. After what seems like far too long, she leaves and Dean returns his gaze to the man sitting across from him. Castiel looks much the same, although he is covered from head to toe in dirt and has grown a short, scraggly beard.

"So..." he begins awkwardly, "You're probably not going to believe any of what I tell you, but here it is." He proceeds to tell Cas everything. At some point Cheryl comes back with their food, and Dean is pretty sure that she overhears what he's saying, because she gives him a very odd look. He doesn't care though, because Castiel is still sitting across from him, paying rapt attention to everything Dean says. They eat while he continues to talk, and when he finishes, they sit in contented silence for a moment.

"So, this 'profound bond'," Castiel begins, as Dean sips his soda. "Are we...lovers?"

Dean chokes on his drink and splutters, his eyes bulging out of his head.

"What? No! Jeez, don't you think I would have mentioned that?" he says, coughing. But he isn't upset. The fact that Cas had even considered it a possibility sends a warm feeling throughout Dean's body. He's flattered, really. He knows he's attractive. But Cas? Cas it a frigging _angel_. Talk about out of Dean's league.

Of course, he's thought about it before, about doing things with Cas. Doing things _to_ Cas. It doesn't bother Dean that Cas has a male body, not at all. If Dean is being honest with himself, he's had a few trysts with other guys before. But Castiel is different, and not just because he's an angel. He's Dean's friend. His best friend, besides Sam. Dean isn't going to risk that, not for anything. Besides, he doesn't think Cas thinks about him that way. Not just him, though. Dean is pretty sure that the angel just isn't a sexual being. At least, he _was_ pretty sure until he heard the way the word "lovers" sounded on Castiel's lips.

"My apologies. It was not my intention to cause you discomfort," Cas says, and Dean hears what sounds like a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"No, man. It's uh, it's cool. No worries," Dean replies as nonchalantly as he possibly can, but he can feel a warm blush heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His earlier thoughts about Castiel's lips are reverberating inside his skull, and he finds himself struggling to meet his friend's eyes. His friend's very, very blue eyes. God, how he loves those eyes.

Dean shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The silence between the two men is not uncomfortable, but Dean feels compelled to say something. After being away from Cas for so long, all he wants to do is listen to that deliciously deep voice. So, he tries to keep the conversation going any way he can.

"So, you believe me?" Dean asks cautiously, attention still lingering on Cas's mouth. Cas shrugs.

"I have no reason not to. And it would explain a few things," he says honestly.

"What things?" 

"Well," says Cas, "there was an I.D. in my pocket. When I tried to look into it, I discovered that I - or, it's original owner - was supposed to be dead."

Dean nodded. He had told Cas all about Jimmy Novak. Castiel continued.

"Then, of course, there are the nightmares. Horrible nightmares about things inside me, trying to claw their way out. Nightmares where I carve symbols into my own chest. Sometimes I dream that I'm drowning, and I can't stop it because something else, something dark, is controlling my body."

Dean's face drained of color, remembering the bloody sigil carved into Castiel's chest, seeing Castiel disappear into the depths of the resevoir.

"Of course, from what you've told me...I can only assume that those are memories," Cas says quietly. He looks up at Dean then.

"There's just one thing you haven't told me," he says, and Dean knows exactly what is coming.

"What happened to me?"


	3. Going Home

"I wish I knew, Cas," Dean says plainly, and he can see the disappointment in his companion's eyes. He can also see from the tension of Castiel's shoulders and the furrow of his brow that he still is very wary of Dean.

"Oh, I see," Cas says, and now things between them _do_ feel a little awkward. Dean isn't sure how to proceed. They've finished their meals by now, and Dean is just waiting on Cheryl to come around with the check. He's fairly certain that Cas has nowhere to go, and Dean's first instinct is to bring him back to the bunker. But Dean can see that Cas is still eyeing him suspiciously, and the last thing he wants to do is scare his friend away. Of course, then Dean remembers that Cas had pretty much gotten into a car with a total stranger just an hour ago. But that still isn't somehow enough to convince him that Castiel won't bolt at the mere suggestion of going home with Dean. He does his best to hide the shudder that runs through him at the thought of Cas going home with him. Well, not going home with Dean, but really  _going home_ with Dean, in the completely non-platonic sense of the phrase. Dean knows it's nothing like that now. He would just be bringing Castiel back to the bunker. But those words, that dual meaning...Dean can't help but think about it. God, he would love it if Cas were _going home_ with him.

Dean is desperate to end the silence - and to put off thinking about his next move -, so he speaks.

"But, uh... maybe my brother could help figure it out. He's the smart one, and..."

Dean's train of thought is derailed when Cheryl comes over. 

"Can I get you fellas anything else? Some dessert? Coffee?" she asks, looking from Dean to Cas and then back to Dean.

"None for me thanks. Castiel?" Dean questions.

"You do not want pie?" Cas asks, eyes wide. Dean feels like he's just had the wind knocked out of him. How on Earth does Cas remember Dean's love for _pie_ when he can't even remember his own name?

"Uh, could you give us a minute?" Dean says as politely as possible, and is relieved when the waitress walks back toward the kitchen.

Dean just stares at Cas for a moment, and Cas looks more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. Dean is stunned that the only thing Cas seems to remember is about Dean. He also can't help but hope that if Cas can remember that tiny detail, then maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to regain the rest of his memories. But he's getting ahead of himself. Maybe Cas saw him look at the pies on the way to their booth. Or maybe he saw Dean eyeing the dessert menu. Maybe this doesn't mean anything. Dean knows there's only one way to find out.

"How did you know about the pie?" he finally whispers. Cas sighs and sits back in his seat, looking only slightly relieved.

"I do not know. Am I wrong? Have I offended you in some way?" he asks, suddenly concerned. Dean chuckles.

"No, that's not it. You were right."

"Then...I remembered," Cas says gravely, and Dean nods.

"Curious," he continues, "I wonder why I was able to recall that detail."

Dean shrugs, but internally, he is celebrating. Cas _remembers_ something. Even if it's something as insignificant as Dean's favorite baked good, it's something. And maybe, Cas will start to remember more. 

They stare at each other for a moment, and then suddenly Cheryl is there again. Dean asks for the check, and they pay at the register up front.

As they walk out the door, the question of what to do next once again looms over Dean. He glances at Cas shyly as they walk the short distance to the impala. Dean can't get over how completely _Cas_ the man next to him is, even though Castiel's memories are gone. From the straight posture and the formal speech to his instinctive trust of Dean, he is without a doubt Dean's Cas.

Dean internally chastises himself. _Dean's_ Cas. He has no right to lay claim to Castiel. He has no right to say Cas belongs to him, no matter how much he wishes he could make Cas his, and his alone.

"Dean," Cas says, startling Dean from his thoughts. Dean notices that they are seated in the impala once again, although he doesn't even remember opening the door. 

"Hmm?" Dean grunts, chancing another look at Cas. Even covered in dirt and in dire need of a shave, Castiel is beautiful.

"Where are we going?" Cas asks, and the look in his eyes is so vulnerable and hopeful, that all of Dean's previous doubts are put to rest, and he knows the answer immediately.

"We're going home, buddy," he says, grinning as the impala roars to life.

The ride to the bunker is silent. Cas stares out the window the entire time, and Dean forces himself to pay close attention to the road and not to the gorgeous creature sitting beside him. He reaches for the stereo at one point, desperate for a distraction. He hits play, and the cassette tape he had been listening to on an earlier occasion starts up where if left off.

"Dean?" asks a quiet, deep voice from the passenger seat. Cas is looking at him intently.

"Yeah, man?" Dean says, glancing over at Castiel, worried that something is wrong.

"May I choose something to listen to?" Cas asks. Dean grins.

"Sorry, man. Driver picks the music," he says.

"Ah. Apologies," Cas says sheepishly, "I was being presumptuous."

"Wha- no! Don't apologize. It's all good. Seriously," Dean tells him, though Castiel doesn't look completely convinced. They don't talk after that, and the car is quiet save for the music playing on the stereo.

When they arrive at the bunker, it's around four o'clock in the afternoon. Dean didn't mean to leave Sam alone so long, and he hurriedly gets out of the car and drags Castiel towards the entrance to the place Dean was coming to think of as home.

Once inside, Dean calls out to Sam. He hears a faint response and drags Cas by the arm towards Sam's bedroom. When he opens the door and Sam is sitting up in bed reading, a wave of relief washes over him. Then he realizes that he's holding Castiel's hand, and Sam is gawking at them. 

"Dean?" Castiel murmurs nervously, moving closer to Dean. He doesn't recognize the enormous man before him. Although the man appears to be very ill, his stature is still intimidating.

"Relax, Cas. This is my brother Sam," Dean explains soothingly. Then he turns to Sam, who looks as though he is either going to speak or spontaneously combust.

"Sammy, we've got a lot to talk about."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this uploaded! I'll try to make it up to you by posting another chapter within the next 48 hours.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

They're still in Sam's room, with Dean sitting on the edge of the bed and Cas hovering nervously near the door. Sam sits quietly, propped up on his pillows as Dean fills him in. Dean glances over at Cas every so often, and he can tell from the way Cas' eyes dart around the room and his weight keeps shifting from foot to foot that he's incredibly uncomfortable. If Sam notices, he doesn't say anything.

"So," Sam says when Dean is finished, "Hi, I guess. It's...uh...it's good to see you, man." He sounds unsure of himself, but Dean can't blame him for not knowing what to say. The Winchesters look expectantly at Cas, waiting for him to say something. When he doesn't, Sam jumps in again.

"Do you have a place to stay?" he asks. Cas shakes his head.

"Okay, well you can stay here. I mean, if you want," Dean offers quickly, and perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"I think that would be...preferable. Thank you," Cas says, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. 

"Awesome," Dean declares, grinning. "Let's go get you settled in." And with that, he pulls Cas from the room, leaving Sam to look after them, looking slightly puzzled.

They go to the next room on the right. Dean took the liberty of exploring the living quarters in the bunker soon after he and Sam first moved in. He knows that the entire hallway is bedrooms, varying in size. The one he's chosen for Castiel is slightly smaller than his and Sam's, but is still spacious. The walls are a plain white, and the floor is a warm hardwood. The room is outfitted with a wooden bed, dresser, and nightstand. It looks comfortable enough, and Cas' eyes widen when Dean opens the door.

"I thought this was a nice room. And it's right next to Sammy's. And mine is directly across the hall. In case you...uh, need anything, I'm right there," Dean says, looking to Cas for approval.

"This is very generous. Thank you, Dean," Cas says, and the smile that spreads across his face makes Dean's breath catch. He's never seen Cas smile so openly before. He has to clear his throat before he speaks again.

"Yeah. Sure thing," he says, "Some of the rooms have attached bathrooms. Sorry this one doesn't. The nearest bathroom is at the other end of the hall, but I'm not sure the showers in there work. We've never used 'em. But you can use mine if you want. I figure you'll want to freshen up." A thought occurs to him, and he motions for Cas to stay put, then turns and walks across the hall to his own room. He pulls open the drawers of his dresser and pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs, a grey tee, and a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms. He's trying desperately not to think about the fact that Cas will be wearing his clothes. Especially his underwear. He walks across the hall, relieved to see that Cas has not moved.

"Here," he says, handing Cas the clothes. "I figured you could wear these until we get your stuff washed up." For a moment, he thinks he sees a faint blush spreading over Cas' face, but then decides it must be a trick of the light. Castiel does not blush.

He stands there awkwardly for a moment before Cas nods and walks out the door, heading across the hall to Dean's room. He looks after him, until he finds that his view is blocked by his younger brother standing in the doorframe.

"Nice digs," Sam says, looking around appraisingly. The sound of water running catches his attention, and he turns to look at Dean questioningly.

"Cas is getting washed up," Dean explains. 

"Oh, okay. So..." Sam trails off.

"So?"

"When he gets out, do you think you could make something to eat? I'm starving," Sam tells him.

"Sure thing, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam returns with a smile before heading back to his own room.

Dean heads down to the kitchen, trying his hardest to avoid thinking about Cas showering. Then it occurs to him that he forgot to give Cas a towel.

_Crap_ , he thinks, and then goes to grab one from the linen closet. From there, he makes his way to his own room, pausing briefly outside the door to his bathroom. He knocks, but the only answer is the sound of spraying water.

He opens the door slowly and freezes at the sight before him.

It's Cas. Just standing in the shower, back turned towards Dean.

Dean silently curses himself for forgetting that his shower is enclosed by a glass door. A transparent glass door. 

Cas must hear the door clicking shut behind Dean, because he suddenly turns, eyes wide as he sees Dean standing there.

Dean gulps. He can see Cas in his entirety now, and he can't say that it doesn't arouse him a little bit. Cas's skin is pale and smooth, and Dean can see wiry muscle rippling just below the surface. Cas is slender, but well built. His legs are long and lean, and between them... Dean forces his eyes upwards, blushing profusely. He can't meet his friend's eyes, so he lowers his gaze to Cas' chest.

"Shit, sorry, man. I...uh...I mean, you forgot... uh...Towel..." Dean mumbles quickly, finally raising his eyes to look at Cas.

His wet hair is darker, contrasting with his skin more than usual. And his wide eyes are unbelievably blue.

But what gets Dean's attention is the way a deep pink color is settling across Castiel's face and staining the tips of his ears. This time, he can't manage to convince himself that it's just a trick of the light.

"Thank you," Cas breathes, his deep voice echoing against the walls of the shower. Dean nods, hangs the towel on the back of the door, and flees the room as quickly as he can.

The whole way back to the kitchen, his face burns and he is haunted by the image of Cas' bare body.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Cas emerges from the bathroom, Dean has managed to calm himself down enough to convince Sam that nothing is amiss. Dean is in the kitchen, working on dinner. He's decided on lasagna, and he's layering sauce and noodles in a pan when Sam comes into the kitchen.

"Lasagna?" Sam asks hopefully, and Dean nods. He frowns at Sam.

"Why aren't you in bed? Do we need to have this argument _again_?" he says.

"Cas just got here. I don't want to be holed away in my room," Sam explains petutlantly.

Of course, that would be the moment Castiel walks into the kitchen. If he's heard Sam, he doesn't let on.

Dean very nearly drops the handful of cheese that he is about to sprinkle over a layer of sauce. Cas is clothed this time, but Dean still blushes. Cas is barefoot and wearing Dean's clothes. The shirt is a bit large, as are the pajama pants. His messy hair is still wet, and it looks like he borrowed Dean's razor, because the unkempt beard is gone.

He and Dean lock eyes for a moment before both looking away quickly. Sam notices and shoots his brother a confused look. Dean ignores him in favor of putting the finished lasagna into the oven. When he turns around, he has a forced smile on his face.

"Well!" he says, clapping his hands together. "I could use a beer right now."

A few minutes later, Dean, Sam, and Cas are all seated at the kitchen table, each with a beer in hand. They sit in silence, although Sam looks as if he's dying to say something.

"Sam?" Dean asks.

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna say whatever it is or just sit there looking constipated?"

Sam huffs and Cas laughs. It's a real honest to goodness laugh. Dean adds that to the list of things he's never seen Cas do before. Sam looks at Cas for a moment and then finally speaks.

"So, I know you don't remember anything. But, I've gotta ask. Do you have any powers left?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck like he's embarrassed.

"I don't believe so. From what Dean has told me, I have concluded that I fell along with the other angels," Cas explains. Dean lets his forehead _thunk_ to the table and waits. He was so hoping to avoid this.

"The angels fell?" Sam demands, turning to look at Dean. "How the hell did that happen? And how did you know?"

"Well that Naomi chick said that Metatron was trying to throw the angels out of heaven, right? And then we _saw_ them fall. I mean, I think that's what it was. I just put two and two together," Dean says, without lifting his head from the table. He knew Sam didn't remember seeing the angels fall. Sam doesn't remember much of anything that happened right after the aborted trial. Dean hadn't wanted to tell Sam because he feared it would interfere with his brother's recovery. Knowing Sam, he would have demanded they get back on the road and look for a way to fix everything despite the fact that he could barely hold himself up.

Sam looks at Cas sadly. "I'm sorry, Cas."

Cas shrugs, and the table once again falls into an uncomfortable silence. Dean wishes the lasagna would cook faster, but he knows it's going to take a lot longer.

"You're wrong, though," Cas says looking at Sam. "About my memories. I remember Dean likes pie."

"The one thing you remember is about Dean?" Sam asks, looking highly amused. Dean doesn't like where this is going.

"Well, you know...We have that profound bond and all that," Dean says.

"But we're not lovers," Cas says quickly to Sam, making sure that the younger Winchester understands. Now Sam is positively grinning, and his shoulders quake from the effort of holding in a laugh. If Dean is honest with himself, the speed with which Castiel denies their romantic involvement stings a little bit.

"Thanks for clearing that up, Cas," Dean says shortly, hoping to end the conversation before Cas says anything else embarrassing. Cas nods in response, and turns back to Sam.

"There are nightmares, too," he says. "But now I think that maybe they are memories." Sam asks what the nightmares are about, and Dean excuses himself to get another beer, not wanting to have to hear everything over again. He doesn't like thinking about Cas suffering. When he returns, Sam and Cas are still talking.

"We'll ask Kevin. Maybe he'll know something more," Sam says, turning to look at Dean. "We'll find something. There has to be a way to fix this."

"Sam the only thing you need to be fixing right now is yourself," Dean says sharply. "No way you're doing anything before you're better."

Sam sighs exasperatedly. Dean waits for a response, but Sam just sits there pouting. 

A timer in the kitchen goes off, and Dean gets up to check the lasagna.

Later that evening, after the lasagna has been eaten and the dishes have been done, Dean sends Sam back to bed. He doesn't really want to be alone with Cas, but he knows that his brother needs to rest.

They're sitting quietly in the lounge area the brothers converted into a living room. Dean keeps sneaking glances at Cas, and every time, Cas is staring right back at him. It's unnerving to say the least, and Dean wonders if Cas is waiting for him to apologize for earlier.

He doesn't.

Instead, after about a half hour, he decides to turn in early. He leaves Cas sitting by himself, inspecting a book he had pulled off a nearby shelf.

The clock reads 3:30 a.m. when the screaming wakes Dean. At first, he panics, afraid that it's Sam. But the voice is too low to be Sam's, and it sounds like it's coming from Cas' room.

Of course it is. Dean barges in, roughly shaking Cas by the shoulder to wake him. Cas' eyes open wide, and Dean can see the terror within them. Cas scooches back towards the head of the bed, away from Dean. He's whimpering, and it sends a feeling of protectiveness through Dean. Dean flicks on the lamp on the bedside table and tries to soothe Cas.

"It's okay, buddy," he coos, "It's a dream, that's all."  

Cas begins to inch his way closer, now recognizing that Dean is not a threat. Before Dean even knows what's happening, Cas is burying his face in Dean's shoulder, breathing harshly. Dean is shocked, but reaches an arm around Cas and pulls him closer, whispering comforting words in his ear. He can feel Cas' hot breath against the bare skin of his shoulder, and he has to fight the shiver that starts its way down his spine.

There are certain times when it is acceptable to get a boner. This is not one of those times.

"Dean," a very timid voice ventures.

"I'm here, Cas," Dean reassures him, tightening his hold on Cas.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it," Dean says, and he means it. "Just go back to sleep." He can feel Cas nod and break free from his grasp. Cas settles himself back in his bed and Dean gets up to leave. He's almost to the door when he hears Cas whimpering.

"Cas?" he asks softly, concern filling his eyes. "What is it?"

"Stay," Cas says quietly, and it's really more of a question than a command. Dean sighs. He is definitely going to regret this. He motions for Cas to move over on the bed, and then he sits down with his back against the headboard. But Cas isn't lying down anymore, he's sitting up and looking intently at Dean.

"Lie down, Cas," Dean says, exhausted. Cas obeys, but then grabs Dean's arm and tugs, trying to get Dean to relax, too.

"Cas..." Dean starts, about to tell Cas all the reasons why he isn't going to lie down, trailing off when he sees the look in Cas' eyes. He sighs and lies down, his back facing Cas. He hears another whimper,and rolls over. He's starting to get irritated. He's facing Cas now, and is not expecting it when Cas snuggles up against him. Cas buries his face in Dean's chest and throws an arm over Dean's side. Dean hesitates for a moment, before returning his friend's embrace.

He stays still for a long time, listening as Cas' breathing slows and evens out. He falls asleep, trying not to think about how right it all feels.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! I'm so sorry it's been a while since I uploaded anything. Things have been really busy because I'm getting ready to go back to college in three days. I'll try to keep uploading as frequently as I can, but I won't have as much time to write because of schoolwork.

When Dean wakes up in the morning, the first thing he notices is the stiffness in his neck from sleeping at an awkward angle. The second thing he notices is the man in his arms. Castiel is snuggled up to Dean's chest, and has wedged one of his legs between Dean's. Soft snores tell Dean that Cas is still asleep. Dean stares at the ceiling, wondering how he gets himself into these situations. He's lying there, embracing the man he's pretty sure he's in love with, unable to move without waking Cas. And Dean isn't sure he wants to move. He likes being with Cas, even if he's not really _with_ Cas. He likes being able to hold his friend, even though he knows that's all they are. _Friends_. It hurts like hell, but it's worth it just to be near Cas.

"Dean?" a sleepy voice murmurs into his chest. Cas' voice is rougher than usual, and Dean thinks he'd love to hear that voice crying his name, screaming with pleasure.

"Uh..." he stops to clear his throat. "Mornin', Cas." He looks down to see Cas, still nestled against him, looking up at him blearily. He looks confused, and a slight blush is gradually coloring his cheeks.

"You're in my bed," Cas points out, rather obviously.

"Yeah, I noticed," Dean chuckles. "You remember what happened last night?" It doesn't occur to him that the question could be misinterpreted until he sees Castiel turning beet red.

"I...uh...no...W-we didn't...?" Cas stammers. Part of Dean is preening, happy to see how flustered he can make Castiel. He likes the tremor in Cas' gravelly voice, the blood coloring the tips of Cas' ears. He wants to see more.

"Didn't _what_ , Cas?" he aks, as innocently as he can. "What are you asking?" Dean knows that this could end very badly, but he can't help himself. 

"I...uh, that is...we didn't... _you know_..." Cas replies awkwardly. He's looking more and more nervous, and Dean almost feels bad. But not quite.

"Oh!" Dean says, like he finally understands what Cas is trying to say. "You want to know if we had sex." Cas nods slightly, eyes the size of dinner plates. Dean finds himself moving. He puts his arms on either side of Cas' head, and pulls himself on top of the other man.

"You want to know," he says huskily, "if I _touched_ you." 

"Yes," Cas says, eyes wide, but pupils dilating slightly. Dean sees fear in those eyes, but also attraction. Lust.

"If I ground our cocks together," Dean says, grinding hard against Cas for emphasis. He can feel Cas beginning to harden underneath him, and is encouraged to push things even further.

"Unh, yes," Cas moans quietly, his hips moving slightly to meet Dean's thrusts.

"If I slicked my fingers and fucked you open," Dean says, practically panting now. He starts moving faster, grinding even harder. Cas whimpers and barely manages to nod.

"You want to know if I filled you up with my _cock_ ," Dean hisses. He's suddenly aware that both he and Cas are rock hard, and that Cas' moans are getting louder.

"Oh, yes. _Yes_ ," Cas pants, and Dean smirks.

"Yeah? You want to know if I laid back and let you fuck yourself on my cock, baby?" Dean knows he's pushing his luck, but Cas isn't exactly protesting. If anything, he's getting more into it, meeting Dean thrust for thrust, eyes closed and head thrown back.

"Yes! _Oh, god, yes!_ "

"If you begged for it and screamed my name when you came," Dean says. He's so close to coming, and his hips are working furiously against Cas, relishing the feeling of friction between two bodies.

" _Dean_ , yes! _Yes_! Oh, _YES_!" Cas screams, and he's coming, muscles clenching, nails digging into Dean's back. He orgasms hard and long, moaning all the while. 

"Ah, _fuck_ , Cas," Dean grunts, and then he's coming too, pleasure flooding through him. He rolls off of Cas, and they're side by side, silent but for the sounds of their shallow breaths.

A few moments pass, and Dean looks over at Cas, only to see those blue eyes staring back at him.

"So we had sex last night," Cas says quietly. Dean shakes his head and pulls Cas in closer.

"No. But does that really matter now?"

Cas' eyes narrow, and he pushes Dean back forcefully.

" _Yes_ ," he hisses angrily, "it _matters_." Dean is speechless. He figures after what they just did that it's kind of a moot point.

"Cas, we just did it anyway, so it's fine," he says, although something tells him it's the wrong thing to say.

"I thought that..." Cas spits at him, "I would never have...If I knew we didn't..."

"You saying you wouldn't have done it if you knew we didn't fuck?" Dean asks incredulously, trying to hide the hurt from his voice. Cas just glares at him.

"Well, that's bullshit, Cas. You certainly didn't wait for me to actually answer the damn question!" Dean retorts, struggling to keep his voice down.

"I thought mounting me _was_ your answer. I didn't know..." Cas tells him, and if looks could kill, Dean would be six feet under by now.

"You heard what you wanted to hear! So just admit it. You _wanted_ it. You _wanted_ me to _fuck_ you," Dean whispers harshly, inching closer.

" _Get out_ ," Cas orders him, trembling with rage. Dean is surprised.

"Cas..." he begins, but Castiel doesn't let him finish.

" _Out_. _Now_."

Dean throws the covers back and stomps to the door. He looks back once before he throws it open and walks out, slamming it shut behind him. He knows Sammy probably heard that, but he doesn't even care. All he wants to do is go back to his own room and sulk. So he does.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the wait! I've been meaning to get back to this, but life kept getting in the way. I'll try to update as frequently as I can, now that I actually have some time!

Dean doesn't leave his room until much later in the afternoon. When he finally makes his way to the kitchen to find something to eat, Sam is sitting at the table with a salad in front of him. He looks up when Dean enters, and his eyes immediately narrow.

"Dean," he says simply. 

"Sammy?" Dean bites back. Sam's bitching is really the last thing Dean needs right now.

"What the fuck did you do to Cas?" Sam asks accusingly. Dean whirls around from the tupperware container he has been inspecting in the fridge. What the hell was in there? It looked like sort of like chicken, but as far as Dean knew, chicken wasn't supposed to have hair on it.

"What the hell is this, man?" he asks, holding up the tupperware and hoping that Sam will take the bait and change the subject. He doesn't.

"Dean. I'm serious. Cas won't come out of his room. He'll barely talk to me at all," Sam says, brow wrinkling with concern. 

"And you automatically assume it must be something I've done?" Dean snaps. "Thanks, Sammy. Your confidence in me is really inspiring."

"Fine, you don't want to tell me? Then don't. Just...fix it, Dean. We just got him back. I don't want to lose him again."

Well. Now Dean feels really guilty. Because Sam is absolutely right, as much as it pains Dean to admit it. They've only just found Castiel again, and Dean is already driving him away again. Dean knows he needs to make this right. He's just not totally sure how to go about it. 

He decides that he'll fix Cas something to eat and bring it to his room. It takes him a few minutes to put together a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. It takes him another few minutes to work up the nerve to actually knock on Castiel's door. While he waits for Cas to answer, he wonders whether the food is still warm enough to eat.

When there is no answer, he knocks again. This time, there is a shout from within. It's muffled, like Cas is buried under a pile of blankets, but Dean still manages to make out the words, "Go away."

"Not happening, buddy. I brought food, so why don't you open up and you can eat while we talk?" Dean calls back.

"No. Go away, Dean," Cas answers, and this time his voice is much closer. Dean drops his forehead to the door.

"C'mon, Cas. I'm sorry about earlier," he says quietly, hoping Sam isn't listening.

The door opens a crack, and Dean can just see one piercing blue eye looking back at him. _God, those eyes._

"Give me the food," Cas says. Dean shakes his head.

"Not unless you let me in."

"Fine," Cas replies, and Dean is shocked by the cold edge to his voice. The door closes, and Dean hears the turn of a lock. He can feel anger building alongside the guilt in his gut.

"Really, Cas? You're going to be a baby about this?" He shouts, no longer caring whether or not Sam can hear him. There's no answer again.

"Fine, you know what? Screw you, Cas!" He bellows and then pauses briefly. "Oh, wait! I forgot. I already _did_!"

The door flies open, and before Dean can even blink, there's a blinding pain as Castiel's fist collides with his nose. There's a sickening crunch, and Dean has had enough broken noses to know what it feels like. But he ignores the blood rushing down his face and charges forward before Cas has time to shut the door in his face again. He manages to get inside the room and slams the door behind him. Cas is standing several feet away from him, fists clenched and chest heaving.

"Get out," he spits at Dean, "Or I'll hit you again." Dean laughs and just locks the door behind him. He makes his way toward the nightstand and grabs a wad of tissues from the box he finds there. His nose is bleeding profusely, and he can feel that it needs to be set back in place. 

"You already broke my nose, Cas," he says. "You wanna give me a fat lip, too?"

"Don't tempt me," Cas tells him, acid dripping from every word.

"I just wanted to talk to you, man. You didn't have to punch me in the face."

Cas laughs derisively. "Oh, yes, Dean. I really, really did."

Dean sighs. He knows he did wrong, and he knows Castiel has every right to be angry. But the old Cas - _his_ Cas - would have at least heard him out. _  
_

"Look, buddy. I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have let you assume that we...I mean. It was wrong to not tell you before we... Shit, Cas. You know I'm no good at this. I don't talk about this stuff," Dean says exasperatedly. It's the truth. He doesn't know what to say; doesn't know what he can say without giving away the fact that he feels something more than friendship for Castiel.

"Keep trying," Cas says, crossing his arms across his chest. Dean can't help but notice that it's a defensive posture. It's like Cas is trying to protect himself from Dean. The very thought makes Dean deflate. He tries again.

"I know that what I did was wrong. And I hate that it hurt you. I should be protecting you, and instead, I..." Dean trails off.

"I don't need you to protect me. I was doing fine on my own," Cas says petulantly. Dean is about to snort at that, but thinks better of it.

"Yeah, okay. Look, the point is that I'm sorry," he says again, not sure if Castiel believes him. Cas appears to think that over for a minute before he responds.

"Thank you, Dean. I appreciate that. Now get out of my room," Cas says, and Dean goes. He's said his part, and now all he can do is wait.

 

After he leaves Cas' room, Dean goes back to his own room. He grabs a washcloth and heads to his bathroom. He wets the cloth and gingerly wipes away some of the dried blood from his face. Then he carefully repositions his nose until it's back where it belongs and digs around in the first aid kit until he finds a nose splint. He cleans up the rest of the blood and then changes his shirt for one that isn't bloody. Then he decides to go start on dinner. 

On his way to the kitchen, he sees the plate he brought Cas, now empty, sitting on the floor outside Castiel's door. Dean can't help the smile that spreads across his face or the flutter he feels in his gut.


End file.
